


The Third

by Lecavayay, verbaeghe



Series: Unexpected [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bringing in a Third, Idiots in Love, Kuch remains the biggest idiot, M/M, POV Alternating, Tampa Bay Lightning, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lecavayay/pseuds/Lecavayay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/pseuds/verbaeghe
Summary: The first time Misha notices Tony is after a long and brutal practice. He needs to get on the bike and cool down, but instead, he’s staring at Tony who is staring at Braydon’s back.His Braydon. Whose back is currently naked and covered in its usual post-practice flush.Hm.
Relationships: Anthony Cirelli/Braydon Coburn, Braydon Coburn/Anthony Cirelli/Mikhail Sergachev, Braydon Coburn/Mikhail Sergachev, Past Braydon Coburn/Slater Koekkoek
Series: Unexpected [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567846
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	The Third

**Curiouser and Curiouser**

The first time Misha notices Tony is after a long and brutal practice. He needs to get on the bike and cool down, stretch out his quads and hamstrings before his legs decide to leave his body, but instead, he’s staring at Tony who is staring at Braydon’s back.

_His _Braydon. Whose back is currently naked and covered in its usual post-practice flush.

Hm.

The second time Misha notices is on the bus to Scotiabank. It’s a short trip from the hotel and Tony honest-to-god pines from two rows back the entire time.

To be fair, Braydon is wearing a very well fitting suit and his hair looks perfect. Misha can’t blame Tony for being transfixed by his handsomeness but wow, way to be subtle about it Rocco.

By the fifth or sixth time, Misha thinks he kind of likes it. Likes catching Tony eyeing up his big, beefy boyfriend. Likes that Tony thinks he’s being subtle. By the tenth time, in the middle of a homestand, Misha thinks he’d like seeing Tony under Braydon.

He’s hanging up his pads when he finally says, “I think we have an audience.”

Braydon hums and raises an eyebrow.

Misha tilts his head Tony’s way.

“What? No.” Braydon shakes his head. “Maybe at you.”

“You really haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what? There’s nothing to notice.”

Misha sits in his stall and works on picking the tape off his socks. Tony’s turned around now, busying himself with his phone. The back of his neck is red, which could be leftover from the sprints at the end of practice, but Misha thinks Tony might have heard them talking.

Good.

When Tony finally turns back around, Misha plays dirty. He grabs Braydon by the chin and pulls him into a kiss, flicking his eyes over to where Tony’s still standing in his pants and skates, mouth hanging open just a little.

Yeah, Misha’ll take the fine for locker room PDA. Totally worth it.

He doesn’t catch Tony looking after the Ducks game in late November, but the parking lot is deserted enough that he takes his shot.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you have a crush on my boyfriend,” he says, stopping Tony from opening his car door.

Tony drops his keys.

“Oh don’t look so shocked.” He leans closer and lowers his voice. “You weren’t really trying to hide it, were you?”

“What?” Tony turns red immediately. “No, that’s...not at all. I don’t know where you got that idea but it’s wrong. You’re wrong.”

Misha takes his chances and crowds Tony further. God, he can almost feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him. “So I wasn’t supposed to read between the lines of that desert island video you did?”

“The vid…” He kind of trails off, a look of defeat flickering over his face. “There were no lines. It was just a dumb question.”

“Kind of sounded like you like guys who are big and strong and could take care of you.”

Tony swallows.

“I’ve seen you watching in practice and the locker room, the bus, at team breakfasts. I see you watching all the time. I know you’ve seen me, too.”

Tony doesn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to be shy.”

“You have me confused with someone else, that’s not me.”

“Uh huh.” Misha throws his head back and smirks. “Well, just come find me when you want to fuck him. I’m sure we can work something out.”

He leaves Tony like that, crimson and flustered, leaning up against the hood of his car. It won’t be long, he thinks. This plan is going to work out great.

**Temptation**

Tony takes exactly seven breaths before he gets in his car and locks the doors. Fuck. He’s tried so hard to keep his crush under wraps. It’s such a stupid thing and not even worth like, getting between Coby and Sergy. He would _never_. Absolutely not.

It was one thing after Koeks was gone and Coby looked so sad all the time and Tony just wanted to hold him (as if he could actually _hold_ Braydon freaking Coburn). But then there was Sergy and yeah, Tony would never. He missed his chance.

Even if Sergy was saying what Tony thinks he was saying.

Was he saying that? That he’d let...he’d let Tony have Coby. For a night? No. No, he must have heard him wrong. That’s not...a thing people do. Just loan out their smoking hot older boyfriend to a friend. Are they friends? A teammate?

Whatever. Fuck. He needs to go home.

He starts his car and peels out of his parking space, barely looking both ways before pulling into traffic.

Christ, he better tone down his heart eyes. He doesn’t want other people in the room picking up on it.

That turns out to be harder than anticipated.

He’s trying so hard to not even _look_ but Sergy’s around constantly, wiggling his eyebrows. Looking smug.

Coby scores a sweet goal in practice and Sergy looks right at Tony, just to make sure he saw it.

He pretends he didn’t, but Sergy is definitely not convinced. He can see it all over his face.

Tony busies himself with the next drill. There is hockey to play. He will _not _let Sergy be a distraction.

Sergy is totally a distraction.

Braydon throws a big hit in the game the next night and Sergy glides up next to him when they jump onto the ice for their next shift. “Hey, did you see Braydon throwing his weight around? Hot, right?” He grins. “Bet he could throw you around.”

And yeah, Tony thinks, he totally could. Tony would let him.

Nope, nope, nope. Skate away. There’s a faceoff to take. Focus.

They win, but the only thing Tony can think about on his way home is letting Coby throw him around.

And when he’s finally in bed ready to sleep, all he can think about is how he probably wouldn’t have to _let_ him at all.

It doesn’t stop there.Tony’s always noticing stuff. No. _Things_. Like Sergy pointing and/or nodding his head in Tony’s general direction while he talks to Coby. Oh! And also that time he was sitting in Braydon’s lap and looked at Tony over Braydon’s bare, freckled shoulder. And who could forget that smirk shot Tony’s way after Misha ran that drill with him and Braydon last week? It’s all been very nerve-wracking.

“Hey, want to grab some lunch?” Sergy asks after a non-game day practice, standing incredibly too close for Tony’s comfort.

“With you?”

“With us.”

Oh. The pit of Tony’s stomach sinks and then scatters into a thousand butterflies. “Yeah, sure. Sounds great,” he says, entirely unconvinced by his own words.

Lunch is nice. Unremarkable. Maybe even a bit mundane.

Tony is about to beg off and head back to his place when Sergy asks,“Why don’t you come over and play video games with me?”

And Tony knows that he’s just going to be all ultra-competitive and annoying, but it’s an off-day so like, Tony can’t see a reason to say no.

Anyway, maybe he’s been reading too much into this after all? Video games are a far cry from where his wild imagination has been running off to. This is good. This is fine.

This is not fine.

Sergy is close to him on the couch. He’s _so_ close and he _smells nice_ and Coby’s over on a chair with a book for crying out loud. Like this is normal. Like his boyfriend isn’t currently trying to wiggle his way into Tony’s lap.

“Sergy, geez!” he says, shoving all the way over to the arm of the couch. “Stay on your own side.” So I can breathe, he doesn’t say.

“You should call me Misha,” he says with a grin.

“He’s just like that,” Coby says, not even looking up from his book.

“And you should call _him_ Braydon.” Misha might actually bat his eyelashes at him. What.

“Um. Okay,” he says to no one in particular as he goes back to the game.

Serg-- _Misha_ eventually scoots his way over to where Tony escaped to and actually does try to wiggle up into his lap.

Tony hits pause. “What the fuck, Sergy?”

“I’m Misha.”

“Fine, what the fuck, _Misha_?”

“_We_ should fuck,” is all that Misha says to him.

“W-what?” Tony sputters out.

“Misha!”

Damn if Braydon’s tone doesn’t run straight through him.

Braydon marks his place and finally looks up from his book. “You’re going to scare him.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right.” Misha purses his lips and grins again. “You should fuck him.”

Tony chokes on his spit while Braydon says, “That is not what I meant.”

Tony thinks that he could disappear into the couch at this exact moment and that would be lovely.

“Don’t freak Tony out, Misha. He doesn’t want me to fuck him.”

“Says _who_?” Tony blurts out before clamping both hands over his mouth. No, now is when he needs to do that disappearing thing.

“See!” Misha jumps up, bounces on the couch a bit, points at Tony and wow, he’d really like to just melt right this minute.

Braydon sighs with his whole body and sets his book down. “Misha, calm yourself and sit down. This is no way to have a talk about anything.” Misha grumbles and has a seat while Braydon turns to him. “Is this something that you’d want to try, Tony?”

“Um.” He sucks on his bottom lip. His heart is beating against his ribs so hard he’s certain they can hear it. “Maybe? But it doesn’t seem like something that’s possible?”

“Oh, it’s more than possible,” Misha cuts in.

“Misha.” Braydon frowns.

“What?” He blinks all innocently.

Tony doesn’t buy it and he’s pretty sure Braydon doesn’t either.

“Will you excuse us a moment?” Braydon says, standing and striding from the room. Misha slinks out after him, his grin still plastered all over his face.

Tony debates making a run for it and asking for a trade to get himself out of this awkward situation, but he just sits there and waits. Can’t help the hopeful little nugget of something that settles in his chest.

Braydon walks into the room first. Misha is right behind him doing his best Cheshire Cat impersonation.

“Would you like to come up to the bedroom?” Braydon asks.

“W-what? Really?” Tony jumps to his feet, blinks up at Braydon. His heart eyes have to be showing. They _have_ to be.

“Unless you wanna leave?” Misha asks, popping out from behind his boyfriend.

He does not.

**Too Old for This Shit**

Braydon is too old for this shit. It feels like the theme of his life these days, but he really is too old to be fucking a teammate while his boyfriend, _who is also a teammate,_ watches them.

But this is something that Misha wants to try. So, well, Braydon can do this for him.

He feels Misha’s presence over there in the corner, where he’s sitting in the overstuffed chair that he insisted on for their room.

He wants to watch. Wants Braydon to put on a show. He’s worked on it some, is better at putting on the show that Misha likes, but this is totally different. He hopes to give a good performance.

Tony is already naked under him, looking up at him with something like defiance in his big, brown eyes.

Shit, his eyes are beautiful. “You’re gorgeous,” Braydon mutters, running a finger across his cheekbone. It pinks up nicely and Braydon thinks he might like that.

Tony fidgets, just a bit, just enough to make Braydon take his wrists and pin them to the bed. He fights the hold, not enough to get free, but enough to say he isn’t going quietly. His eyes are sparkling with the challenge of it.

Braydon tightens his hold, presses his wrists to the mattress, leans in.

“You wanna fight me?” He thinks he hears Misha groan at the same time the fight goes out of Tony. Braydon smirks, traces Tony’s jawline with his nose. “That’s what I thought.”

He moans quietly when Braydon kisses him. Braydon swallows the sound down, deepens the kiss, not stopping until Tony is squirming again, trying to find some sort of purchase.

“Hey, it’s alright, let me,” Braydon mutters, sliding his hand down Tony’s chest, along his sides, settling on his hips.

Fuck if his hips don’t fit perfectly in Braydon’s hands.

He gives them a little squeeze before reaching for the lube. “I promise I won’t hurt you,” he says as he slicks his fingers up.

Braydon glances over his shoulder as he starts, makes eye contact and smiles at Misha, who is all but panting, hand on his dick over his shorts, while he watches. He winks and turns back to his work.

Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

Braydon runs his lips along Tony’s jaw, across his chin and pauses to pay special attention to the little dip there. Tony whines, rocks down on his finger, wordlessly begs for more.

Who is Braydon to deny him?

The line along Tony’s cheekbones turns a beautiful shade of pink when Braydon adds a second finger. Braydon stretches gently and he whimpers and goes limp.

He drags his mouth along one warm cheekbone, dips down toward an ear. “What a good boy you are,” Braydon mutters, just for him. His sweet little muttered nonsense sends a jolt of pleasure through Braydon.

He reaches for the condom and gets himself ready.

“Are you sure that you want this?” Braydon stops to ask. He needs to know that Tony really wants this one hundred percent.

“God, _please_,” Tony sobs out.

Braydon can’t help but wonder how long Tony’s wanted this as he slides in. He pauses, takes a couple of deep breaths to settle himself and then Tony is arching into him, egging him on.

His hands settle on Tony’s perfect hips while he thrusts into his also perfect fucking heat over and over. Braydon tries to tell himself that he isn’t affected by the broken words tumbling out of Tony’s mouth, that the sound of his pleasure does nothing for him.

Braydon has always been a bad liar.

Tony reaches for him with grabby hands, wants him close, pulls Braydon into a kiss that he moans into as soon as their lips meet.

Braydon hikes his hips, changes the angle just enough to make Tony cry out with every thrust. He can feel how hard Tony is, and he hasn’t asked yet, but Braydon is a gentleman, so he reaches for Tony’s dick.

He doesn’t even get his hand wrapped completely around it before Tony tenses and comes.

Braydon is close, so close, and all it takes to push him over the edge is realizing that he can hear Misha’s heavy breathing from across the room.

Braydon goes a little boneless, but doesn’t let the whole of his weight land on Tony. He catches his breath while Tony’s fingers drag nonsensical patterns in the sweat on his back.

“So,” Tony and Braydon jump at the sound of Misha’s voice. “I think that went well.”

**I’m Lovin’ It**

Well, this is all working out wonderfully. Exactly according to plan.

Tony is hot.

Braydon is _fucking hot_.

They’re being fucking hot together. And everyone is happy.

Just as it should be.

Tony drops a ball of tape in the locker room and bends over at the waist to pick it up and toss it toward the trash can. Misha openly lusts after the way his shorts stretch over the swell of his ass.

He’s wanted a peice of that ass ever since he watched Braydon fuck him a week ago. It’s a good ass.

Braydon’s on his way to the bike to cool down when Misha intercepts him. “Can we invite Tony over today?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure?”

He wipes his brow with the towel he’s got slung over his shoulder. “Yeah, if you want to.”

He sure as fuck does. So he rocks up on his toes to plant a quick kiss on Braydon’s cheek before rushing off to find Tony.

Who is, of course, hunched over an iPad watching god knows what replay from the game with Johnny and Killer.

“Hey,” Misha says. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

Tony looks hesitant but hands over the iPad to Killer and follows Misha out of the room and down the hall a bit. “What are y--.”

“Come over,” Misha says, once they’re far enough away from the locker room door.

“To, uh.” He checks that both ways are clear. “To your house?”

“Yes.”

“For me...for me and Braydon, again?” He’s turning a deep shade of pink as he asks, the color dripping down from his cheeks to his neck. It could just be remnants of the game but, Misha’s not so sure it is. Especially with the way Tony bites at his bottom lip, almost looks up at him through his frankly ridiculous eyelashes.

“I had a different idea,” Misha says, conspiringly. “Maybe, all three of us?”

Oh yes, that flush is just for him.

“O-okay, I...yeah. Yes.” Tony clears his throat. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Misha smiles. “You know where to go when you’re done.”

He leaves Tony in the hall with his mouth hanging open, already thinking about all the things they’re going to do tonight.

Tony is parked in the driveway, leaning on the hood of his car when Misha and Braydon get to the house. He looks casual, one arm crossed over his chest as he scrolls through his phone.

“You come here often?” Misha asks, getting out of the passenger seat.

It’s too dark to really see the blush but Misha imagines it’s there. “Shut up.”

Misha smiles and leads the way into the house, flicking on all the lights he passes. He knows Braydon’s going for the fridge to get bottles of water, that he’ll drink a whole one before he lets Misha get his lips on him. Tony’s probably got his own postgame quirks like that, things he probably doesn’t even know he does.

Misha wants this to be the new routine. He wants…

He wants to pull Tony in by the neck of his shirt and press him against the wall. He wants to hold him there and kiss the shit out of him.

“So, um.” Tony looks nervous, hands on his hips. He’s stopped directly between Braydon in the kitchen and Misha, heading for the stairs. “How is this...uh, what should I do?”

Braydon catches Misha’s eye over Tony’s shoulder.

“Relax,” Misha says. “And get into my bed.”

“Our bed,” Braydon corrects and that just makes something warm settle in along Misha’s spine.

Tony gives a cute little nod of his head and follows Misha upstairs.

It’s hard not to pin him to the doorframe of the bedroom once they get there, nearly impossible not to strip his shirt up over his head and toss it somewhere they’ll never find. Tony should honestly like, never wear clothes.

“I mean, I have to wear them sometimes.” Tony’s smiling all the way to his eyes, the little shit.

“But preferably not right now,” Braydon says, reaching for the hem of Tony’s shirt.

Tony lets them strip him down easily, all of their clothes ending up in a mess on the floor before they situate themselves on the bed.

Misha gets Tony pinned flat on his back, runs his hands up and down his ribs, flicks his thumbs over his nipples. Tony grits his teeth and arches into the touch.

Misha does one better and replaces his thumbs with his mouth, fits his teeth there until Tony pulls him off by the hair.

“Too much,” he groans, eyes closed and head thrown back.

“Really?” Misha glances down to where Tony’s dick sits hot and heavy, clearly enjoying itself.

“Shut _up_.”

“No! I’m impressed!”

Tony smashes his face into the nearest pillow. Braydon comes around to the side of the bed to give Misha a Look as he pets fingers through Tony’s curls. “What do you want?”

The question isn’t directed at Misha but he knows his answer. He wants Tony under his hands, wants to pin him like Braydon did. He wonders if Tony’d go pliant for him, melt under his touch.

“C’mere,” Braydon says softly, pulling Misha out of his thoughts. He wasn’t talking to Misha though.

Braydon stretches out in the bed next to Tony, shifting him over until they’re cuddled up together. Tentatively, Tony throws one leg over Braydon’s hips and, oh. Oh, this is going to be nice.

Tony looks perfect straddled over Braydon’s hips, ass in the air. Misha would love to take his time with him, really get his fill. He doesn’t know if he can be that patient though. Definitely _not _one of his virtues.

Braydon runs his fingers through Tony’s hair as they kiss, Tony whining just a little when one of Braydon’s hands slides down his spine. His ass pops up in the air just a little higher.

Misha might pass out.

He settles on his knees behind that ass and finally gets a touch, smoothing his hands over each cheek, squeezing once. Twice. “God.”

Tony’s ears go pink.

“He’ll take good care of you,” Misha hears Braydon say as he reaches for the bottle of lube next to Tony’s knee.

He coats his fingers and circles where Tony’s waiting for him. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Tony gasps.

Misha presses in, feels Tony take him, and knows right then he’s a little bit addicted. “You’re so good,” he sighs.

Tony whines into Braydon’s mouth.

“Another,” Braydon says, catching Misha’s eye over Tony’s shoulder.

Misha shivers and does what he’s told. _Slow and steady, slow and steady._ Fuck, he wants to bury himself in Tony. Feel the heat of him around his dick.

“Braydon, tell him,” Tony says, breathless. “Please.”

Braydon smiles. “Tell him yourself, sweetheart.”

The back of Tony’s neck flames a hot pink and he whispers something that gets lost in Braydon’s chest.

“He wants to hear it from you.”

Misha teases another finger against where Tony’s already stretched. “You want something, babe?”

“I’m ready. Misha, I’m ready. _Please_.”

The time for slow and steady is gone. Misha needs to be inside Tony, feel the clutch of him, make him fall apart. He scrambles for a condom.

“So good, I’ve got you,” Braydon coos as Misha lines up and gives Tony everything he’s got.

One long roll of his hips and he’s _there_. Oh, fuck. “Tony…” he sighs.

Braydon’s hand settles on top of Misha’s where it’s gripped onto Tony’s waist. It’s a silent question, a gentle check-in.

He’s fine. He’s _good_. So he nods and gives a sweet, steady roll of his hips. Tony clenches up all around him and damn, he’s really not going to last long.

The rhythm they settle into is quick. Misha is already chasing the end, he knows it. So impatient to feel all Tony has to give.

“More,” Tony says, breathy as all hell. Sounding like actual heaven.

Braydon swallows up Tony’s whines as Misha picks up the pace. It’s almost too much watching them kiss, watching Braydon gather Tony even closer with his hands around his shoulders.

He wants to see the marks Braydon could leave, little mouth and fingertip shaped bruises all over Tony’s skin. Misha would kiss every one, pick a few to make a little darker. One set of teeth on top of another.

Tony's arms give out on the next thrust and his head falls to Braydon's chest. Braydon's fingers twist in his hair, holding him still as Misha chases his release. God, he’s so close.

"I’ll hold you up," Braydon purrs, fitting his hands to Tony’s hips.

It changes the angle just fucking perfectly and Tony’s whole body shivers as Misha hits him just right. He gasps against Braydon’s chest, lips all pink and bitten, mouth open just begging to be filled.

Misha groans when one of Braydon’s hands slips from Tony’s hip and disappears between them. He feels the end of his resolve slipping as Tony falls apart underneath him, Braydon’s hand around his dick.

“Fuck,” he hisses as Tony’s body pulls him over the edge.

He feels dizzy as he pulls out and slumps over onto the mattress. He watches Tony catch his breath, sees the way he scans down Braydon’s beautiful, perfect body. They’re all covered in a thin sheen of sweat but Braydon’s covered in the mess Tony made, too. His beautiful, perfect dick has never looked better.

Tony licks his lips and Misha can’t help but mimic the motion.

“Could I?” Tony whispers. “Braydon, can I...I want...”

“What do you want?”

“To _feel_ you.”

Braydon brushes his sweaty curls out of his face, tucks a few of them behind his ear. “Whatever you want.”

Of all the things Misha imagined Tony wanting, in this moment, the graceful slide onto Braydon’s dick, nothing but his own release helping the way, did not even cross his mind.

Tony doesn’t waste any time, quickly finding a rhythm that makes Braydon grip his thighs. They flex and tense under his fingers as Tony rides him, head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

Misha wants to get his lips on that neck, leave his own pattern of marks behind. He wants Tony to be his. And Braydon’s.

He wants Tony to be _theirs_.

Braydon’s got his lip between his teeth, trying to hold in all the noises Tony’s fucking out of him. Jesus, he takes him so beautifully. It’s not long before Braydon starts to fall apart under him. Misha watches him try to hang on to the edge, desperately holding himself back.

Tony must feel it too and gets a hand around himself, racing to catch up.

Misha’s breathless with anticipation.

“B-Braydon,” Tony stutters, struggling to keep the pace he started. “Oh god, Brayd…”

Braydon arches up then, gets an arm around Tony’s waist and takes control. Finishes it.

Misha’s laying down but he’s pretty sure he’s knees go weak at the sight of Tony shaking apart in Braydon’s arms, their ragged breaths filling up the space between them as they ride the high.

“Please stay,” Misha blurts.

Braydon smiles into Tony’s hair, his big, perfect hands stroking along his back. “I second that.”

Tony looks ten good seconds away from falling asleep anyway. It’s just polite, Misha thinks. He doesn’t have to say how badly he wants Tony to stay the next night, too. And a few more after that.

All of the nights.

He snuggles up to Braydon’s side and drags his fingers through Tony’s curls. “We don’t even need a bigger bed.”

Tony huffs.

They can talk about the bed tomorrow.

“I think I need another shower,” Tony says, trying to untangle himself from their snuggles.

“Luckily,” Braydon says. “I think the shower is actually big enough for the three of us.”

Tony beams, cheeks still flushed from the satisfaction of the night. “Perfect.”

**Cuddles For Days**

Misha is playing video games while Tony sits next to him on the couch and goes over video from practice. He’d expected to get shit for it, but Misha’d just huffed a little laugh and powered up his PS4.

Misha’s phone vibrates between them and he makes a big show of fishing it out of his pocket. “Aww, crap. I forgot I have a signing today.”

“Oh, I can.” Tony puts his iPad to sleep, looks over at Misha. “I can leave, it’s okay.” Braydon hasn’t arrived from his post-practice everything and Tony isn’t a hundred percent on where he stands with them.

“What? No, don’t be silly.” Misha stands, stretches. Tony can’t help but allow his eyes to linger on the little strip of exposed belly.

“Huh?” Tony asks, somewhat dumbly.

“You should stay, wait for Braydon.” Misha leans in, presses a light kiss to Tony’s lips. “He’d really like that,” he adds, a purr lacing his voice.

“Are you sure?” He can feel his cheeks going warm. He must look like a total asshole.

“Mmm, yeah,” Misha answers, running a knuckle along one of Tony’s cheekbones. “See you when I get back, okay?”

“Um. Okay,” Tony replies, even though he isn’t totally sure that he’ll still be here. Braydon might have a romantic dinner for just the two of them planned, or something.

And there’s no place for Tony in something like that.

Misha smiles at him, all charming and confident. Tony understands why he was able to win Braydon over when he himself never had a chance. He gives Tony one more short kiss before he saunters out the front door.

Tony snorts. Now Misha’s laying it on a little thick. There’s no reason to hide his smile as he returns to his tablet.

The front door slams, causing Tony to jump. He’d lost himself in video, almost an hour having passed since Misha left. He fumbles his tablet and drops it as he scrambles to look up.

Braydon looks angry at something. Is he mad that Tony is here? God, why did he listen to Misha? He should leave. He’s…

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that I wasn’t--”

Braydon startles and looks over at him. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” he says after a moment.

“I’m _sorry_, Misha said it was okay to stay. I’ll leave, I swear that I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, hey,” Braydon crosses the room in like three strides, which is _fucking amazing_. He cups Tony’s face, tips it up. “I’m not upset at you. You didn’t do anything. I just had a really bad workout, that’s all.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tony shakes his head, it hardly moves in the cradle of Braydon’s hands. “You’re so, so _fit_ and you workout constantly. There’s no way that you--”

“Mike told me that I didn’t do well enough today, that there’s no way I’ll keep a spot on the team if I don’t start doing things better and harder, and I.” He pulls a hand away, runs it through his hair, looks down at his feet. “I don’t know how much harder I can work or how much more I have to give.” He looks back up. “What if this is the end of the line for me?”

Tony looks at him for a couple of seconds. Takes in how sad and downtrodden he looks, then reaches up and threads his fingers into the hand that’s still on his face, pulls the hand down. “Hey, come with me,” he says, tugging Braydon towards his stairs.

He climbs up onto the bed, gives Braydon another little tug as he lays down. Braydon climbs up next to him, settles his head on Tony’s shoulder while Tony slips his arms around Braydon’s shoulders and pulls him close.

It turns out that Tony _can _hold Braydon Coburn, he finds out, as he buries his nose in Braydon’s hair and says, “You’re the best skater on the team.”

He snorts. “I am not.”

“Hey, who here between the two of us watches all of the video?” Braydon hums quietly, so Tony decides to take it as a concession and continues, “Pointer is like half a second faster, _maybe_, but you are the best and smartest skater. You always know where to go, where the puck is going to be.”

“I’ve seen what everyone thinks of my skating abilities,” Braydon replies, not a little bitter.

“I thought that you hate social media?” Tony runs his fingers along Braydon’s hairline.

“Don’t have to have it to hear things,” Braydon mutters, turning his face into Tony’s neck and making a place for himself. And Tony’s heart _sings_. It doesn’t even matter, at this moment, how long he’ll get to keep all of this, because Braydon wants him, wants his comfort right now.

He can sort out the collateral damage later.

Tony startles awake when Misha climbs into the bed sometime later. He curves around Braydon’s back and reaches for Tony’s hand, giving a little squeeze after he threads their fingers together.

“Mmm, this is perfect,” he hums.

"Still might need a bigger bed," Braydon says and Tony smiles. "Just in case."

It sounds like they want to keep him and Tony can’t quite make his heart settle down.

**Kuch is Gonna Kuch**

Braydon feels good. He feels strong and fit and just...just _happy._ He finishes his last set of chest presses and racks the bar. He catches sight of Kuch out of the corner of his eye.

Honestly, it was a while before the sight of Kuch didn’t make him instantly a little annoyed and bristly, even if Braydon knows that he meant well. That he was just trying to save Braydon some heartache.

Right now it looks like he has something to say and Braydon’s stomach does a weird little flutter. He sighs and sits up. “What’s up?”

“I just want the bar,” Kuch says with a shrug. “Thought you might be done.”

“Oh. Okay.” Braydon gets up and pulls his weights off. He wipes down the bar and nods at Kuch as he heads for the door, relieved.

“Hey, I just wanted to say…” He trails off.

Braydon sighs and looks back.

“I think it’s cool, the thing with Rocco?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s Misha’s type. Perfect fit.”

“Oh.”

Kuch doesn’t say anything else, just settles onto his back and starts his reps.

“Um, you...you think so?”

Kuch racks the bar. “Oh yeah. I’ve seen him with loads of people like Tony. His favorite type of boy.”

Braydon walks away before he has a meltdown right there in the gym, thoughts immediately all caught up in how Tony is Misha’s _type_. Which, of course he is. How could he not be. He’s perfect.

And Braydon is nothing like Tony.

By the time he gets to his car, Braydon’s spiraled completely. He’d never really thought about Misha’s type before, even when Kuch told him he wasn’t it. But this makes sense. The opposite of him makes sense.

He won't stand in the way when Misha is ready to move on. As long as they’re happy, he’ll survive.

Misha and Tony are already on the couch when he gets home, curled around each other under a blanket. That’s a punch to the chest.

“Hey,” Tony says, smiling up from the blanket pile he’s in. “Welcome home.”

Braydon swipes a hand through Tony’s curls on his way to the stairs. “I’m just going to shower.”

“We’ll be here!” Misha calls.

Braydon doesn’t look back to see just how snuggled up they are together. It wasn’t that long ago Misha would have jumped at the chance to follow Braydon upstairs and crowd him against the cold shower tiles.

It should have been more obvious to him, what Kuch said. He should have picked up on it weeks ago.

He turns the shower on as hot as it will go. Better late than never, he supposes.

He puts himself to bed after dinner and an episode of the thousandth rewatch of The Sopranos. He doesn’t want to bring their mood down just because he’s had a realization that his life is going to change for the worse here soon.

He’ll have to get used to sleeping alone again.

Eventually, they come up to bed and fit themselves on either side of him, each of their heads pillowing on one of Braydon’s shoulders. Their fingers link together over his chest, nearly right over his heart. He sighs, settling into the feeling of having them close. He loves it, loves...them.

Oh.

Oh, no. This is going to actually be miserable.

Because they _are _better for each other than he is for either of them and Braydon knows that he can’t stand in the way.

When the time comes, when they come to him and ask him to step back, he’ll let them. He’ll let them go.

Braydon turns and buries his nose into Misha’s hair. God, he’s going to miss Misha so much, all the things he’s grown to love about him. All the things he planned to love forever. He can never thank him enough for pulling him from the depths of his despair, for loving him back to life.

Tony snuffles and Braydon’s heart pangs. He never expected this, to be holding Tony like he was made to fit there under his arm with his head on his shoulder. Made to fit with them. But somewhere in his brain and in his heart, he accepted it. Without him even realizing, he found a way to care for him.

Fuck.

The least he can do is enjoy it all while it lasts.

**Everything is Perfecter**

Off days are one of Misha’s favorites. There’s a loading break in the game he’s playing, so he takes the opportunity to look up and over at Braydon and Tony who are settled on the other side of the living room.

Braydon is reading a book. Again. Seriously, what is with all of the books all the time? They can’t be that interesting. He shakes his head and shifts his attention to Tony. He’s sitting on the ground between Braydon’s legs and his head is resting on one of Braydon’s thighs.

Braydon has the fingers of one hand threaded into Tony’s curls, and--

His game lets him know that it’s done loading, so he hits pause without looking away.

He wants to spend a bit more time watching this cute shit, even if Tony is reading one of Braydon’s nerdy books, too. That part isn’t quite as cute.

Aw, who is he kidding? It’s cute as hell. He loves these two dorks.

“Hey, what’s up?” Tony’s apparently noticed that Misha’s paused his game. He looks perfectly content with his head there on Braydon’s leg.

And Misha is content too. Wow.

“Nothing, I just needed a break.”

“Ah, okay.” Tony smiles like he knows something and Misha thinks he’s about to get chirped, but Tony just goes back to his book, his lips tipped into a little knowing smirk.

Stupid little smug asshole.

Misha hits the button on his controller.

**Two for the Price of One**

The first thing Slater notices when he walks into the Lightning locker room is Braydon’s lack of lumberjack beard. He likes the look, it reminds him of when they first met. He looks good.

So Slater decides to talk to him first. He saunters over and gives him a small, flirty smile. “Hey, nice to see the shape of your jaw again.”

“Ahh, yup. Thanks.” Braydon gives a little smile back. It isn’t as warm as it could be, but it’s a start.

Slater thinks, as he makes his rounds and greets his various friends, that they might be getting there. Might be getting to the point where everything’s fine.

He steers clear of Sergy, knows that Braydon is with him now. Slater can’t help but laugh at the thought that Braydon is once again with an on-again-off-again partner.

Hey, sounds familiar. What a weird type to have. Your sometimes pair partner. Slater snorts to himself as he returns to his locker room to prepare for the game.

Everything in game is fine until he gets absolutely leveled by Cirelli. He’d had the puck, it was a fair hit, but it felt like there was something _more_ there. Slater can’t figure out what he could have done to Rocco, though.

It keeps happening. Rocco is there to knock him on his ass every single time Slater so much as gets a sniff of the puck. This has to be on purpose, but it doesn’t make any sense.

Cirelli is not Sergachev.

Rocco is safely on the bench on Slater’s next shift, so of course that’s when Sergy comes up out of nowhere to smash him into the boards.

They have a little jawing scrum after the whistle, and Slater has had enough. “You wouldn't even get to fuck him if I didn't break up with him, so _fuck you_ and you're welcome!"

Rocco has appeared out of no-fucking-where and pops Slater right in the nose. He tries to start an actual fight, but Slater holds on for dear life.

There’s no way Slater is taking five for this little asshole.

When Tony gets back to the bench, Sergy is sure to fist bump him. Slater thinks he can read '_Good work'_ on his lips.

He looks over at Braydon, who is definitely avoiding eye contact. Slater wonders what’s going on.

Sergy lines up for the next faceoff and says one of the worst chirps Slater’s ever heard, “You’re just mad he realized dark hair is better”

“That isn’t a great chirp, babe,” Tony says as he heads over to the faceoff circle. _Babe?_

“Shut up! It totally is!” Sergy shouts back.

Rocco shakes his head, looking fond. “It totally isn’t.”

“Then what is?” Sergy challenges.

“Fine.” Rocco sighs, all big and dramatic before he turns to Slater. “Hey, Koeks, nice strip. Still learning how to breathe right? Don’t worry, you’ll get it soon.”

Slater frowns and Sergy bursts into giggles.

“Well, we aren’t all born with noses like yours,” he snaps.

“Oh, well done, _no one_ has _ever_ said anything about my nose before,” Rocco laughs as he lines up.

That asshole wins the faceoff easily.

The whole game goes on in a similar manner. Slater feels like he’s being attacked constantly, like he’s swatting away a thousand gnats or so.

“Jesus Christ Braydon, can you call off all of your fucking minions?” he half-shouts from the ice after Rocco’s latest crosscheck.

“There’s just the two of us, fuck you!” Tony shouts, towering over Slater, hands on his hips.

And it clicks. Holy shit, he’s fucking them _both_? That’s certainly new. Branching out from the sometimes pair partner mold.

Slater looks over at Braydon with wide eyes.

Huh.

**Oh No**

Braydon starts to jump over the boards with the intention of rescuing Tony when two things occur to him. One, Tony is towering over Slater and doesn’t need any damn saving and two, he just instinctively wanted to protect Tony. Against Slater.

Fuck, Tony means more to him than Slater? Already?

Now he’s going to have to watch them branch off together into their own thing while he loves them both more than he loved _Slater_?

It’s going to be so much harder to do this now.

Braydon looks up at the scoreboard when the final horn sounds. He decides, as he goes over the boards to congratulate Vasy, that maybe he should really start distancing himself from them now.

It will make things easier in the long run.

“Hey,” Misha slides in next to him, pushing Shatty out of the way. He grumbles a bit but makes room. “We’re starved, come with us to get some dinner.”

“Ah, I think I’m just going to head home,” Braydon says as he picks at his sock tape.

“No,” Misha whines, drawing the word out about ten syllables. “Come with us. It will be better with you there.”

“I’m not really hungry.” He smiles softly at Misha, his heart catches a bit in the one he gets in return. “You two go out, have fun.”

“Are you sure?” Misha asks.

“Yeah, of course. Don’t want you to starve.” He ruffles Misha’s hair and gets a little grin in return before he scampers across the room to where Tony has just finished holding court with the media.

Braydon’s lips part in another little smile despite himself as he watches Misha slide in next to him. They’re so cute together, and it’s--

“Hey, Coby. Your man seems a little chummy with Rocco.” Braydon blinks over at him as he continues, “You aren’t worried about that?”

“No,” Braydon answers, and it’s true.

He isn’t worried, because they make one another happy and that’s what really matters here.

“Whatever you say, man,” Shatty huffs, returning to his gear.

Braydon rushes through all of his own cool down, begs off on his nightly session with Mike, and heads home so he can veg out in peace.

Get used to having a quiet house again. Whatever.

He isn’t home for very long before Misha and Tony arrive with at least three bags from Goody Goody.

“How did you get them to stay open for you?” Braydon asks as Misha pulls out a Hyde Park Cheeseburger and holds it out like it’s gold. Which it sort of is.

“We called ahead,” Tony says, wobbling a strawberry shake under his nose. Ugh, his one weakness that isn’t stupidly adorable brown-haired boys with brown eyes. He grabs it and takes a long sip.

“And gave them so much extra in tip,” Misha adds, laughing as he pops open his own burger.

“Like, so much,” Tony agrees with a nod. He opens chicken tenders, because of course he does.

Braydon feels nothing but fond when Misha settles in next to him and puts on some dumb action flick. The feeling intensifies when Tony snuggles up on his other side and lays a head on his shoulder.

Braydon sighs. So much for distance. This is going to suck.

**More Quarters are NOT Out of the Question**

Something is wrong with their relationship.

Well, no. The relationship is great. He loves them both.

But there’s something wrong with Braydon. He’s been quiet and reserved lately. Almost like how he was when Misha was first trying to get with him. And knowing how Braydon was when they first got together...well. That’s why he’s worried.

Misha knows how badly miscommunication and keeping things from one another went, so he’s not about that life. He waits until Tony goes to do the Twitch thing for the team and throws himself down on the couch next to where Braydon is having his daily sulk. “So, when are you going to tell me what’s wrong so we can fix it?”

“What?” Braydon blinks over at him and away just a quickly. “Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s a big fat nope,” Misha says. He places a hand on Braydon’s knee. “No keeping secrets here, right? Didn’t we agree on being truthful with one another?”

Braydon sighs. "Yeah, it’s just.” He runs a hand through his hair, sags a little bit. His voice is hardly more than a whisper when he adds, “I don't know when you guys are going to push me out of this thing and it's breaking my heart."

Misha blinks. Where the fuck is this even coming from? “What do you mean? Why would we _ever_ push you out?”

“I. Tony is your type and I’m not. We both know I never was. You just settled for me after I grew on you.”

That hits Misha right in the chest. “Braydon, come on. Yeah, you grew on me, but I didn’t _settle_ for you.”

Braydon continues, like Misha didn’t even say anything, “He’s also closer in age to you and you guys have more in common with one another than me. Of course you do, it makes sense. And after what Kuch said--”

And Misha sees red. He jumps up and stomps out the front door, ignoring Braydon’s shouts.

He jumps into his car and drives straight to Kuch’s house, knuckles white on his steering wheel. Misha storms in without knocking, heading straight to his rec room.

He’s there playing pool with Vasya, because of course he is.

It doesn’t matter. Misha doesn’t care. "Why can't you ever keep your fucking mouth shut?” He demands without introduction.

“Uh, what?” Kuch looks up from where he was lining up his shot.

“Please, I'm begging you here." Misha frowns. “I will throw more quarters at your head if I have to.”

“Again, what?” Kuch asks, jumping upright. Good, Misha has his attention.

“Stop saying stupid things to Braydon!” Misha shouts. “He’s home upset because you’ve put it in his head that we’re going to dump him any day and you don’t know _shit_.”

Kuch is quiet for a minute. He cocks his head. In thought or confusion, Misha doesn’t care which, to be honest. Finally he says, “The whole thing is one relationship?”

“Yes! And you think you’re helping, but you aren’t! Stop, okay?”

“All three of you?” He seems a little confused about it, to be honest.

“How many times do I need to say yes before you get it?” Misha asks, amused.

“Well…” He trails off.

“And it’s perfect, so just let us be!”

“Um. Okay.”

“Thanks.” Misha starts to leave, but turns back.

“Good to see you, Vasya.”

He laughs and waves. Misha gives him a nod before he leaves.

He’s gonna grab Tony from the arena and make this right for Braydon.

**I Mean This Four Letter Word the Most**

Tony is almost used to walking up and into Braydon and Misha’s place without knocking for entry now. He feels like he belongs with them now, like it’s somewhere he should _be_.

He might still get a little rush of nervous adrenaline when he turns the doorknob to walk in, but it’s fine.

What isn’t fine is the way that Braydon is sitting on the couch looking like someone shot his dog.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Tony asks as he snaps the door closed.

Braydon looks up at him, settles his face into something neutral. “Nothing. I’m just thinking, that’s all.”

“That sounds fake, but okay,” he answers, walking into the room and throwing himself down next to Braydon.

“Are you a walking meme?” There’s a small smile on his lips which is a start.

“Surprised you know what a meme is,” Tony chirps with a grin. The smile slides right off Braydon’s face and shit. That is not what he’s after at all. “Okay, now I really don’t believe that ‘I’m just thinking’ shit.”

“It’s really nothing for you to worry about.” He shakes his head. “I’ll get over it, okay?”

Tony flattens his lips so he doesn’t frown. “Come here, then.” He holds out his arms in invitation, relaxes a bit when Braydon tucks himself into the offered embrace.

Tony isn’t paying attention to how much time passes while they sit there on the couch. Not when he has his arms full of Braydon and fingers full of short curls.

He’s just laid his head down on top of Braydon’s when the front door flies open. Tony thinks that Braydon looks more than just a little nervous when he sits up.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Misha shouts in Tony’s general direction before turning his attention to Braydon. “Why would you fucking ever listen to a thing Kuch says?” Braydon opens his mouth, but Misha continues, “He’s a fucking idiot! I don’t want to leave you and Tony doesn’t want to leave you.” He turns to Tony. “Tell him how you don’t want to run away with me and leave him behind.”

Tony is quiet for a minute. He wants to choose his words carefully. He glances between Braydon and Misha, sees Misha all fire and brimstone.

But Braydon? Braydon looks like he’s waiting to hear that his shot dog had to be put down.

“Braydon.” Tony cups his jaw, strokes a thumb along the scruff there. “Misha is hot, and I love him _now_, but I’ve loved _you_ for two years.” He feels his cheeks go warm at the admission, but it’s out there now and that’s the part that matters.

“Oh my god, what?” Misha asks.

“Are you serious?” Braydon adds, eyes wide.

“Um.” He swallows. “Yeah, why did you think I was always...did you really never notice me following you around like a puppy?”

“No.”

“Not the video, or, um…” Tony trails off at the blank look on Braydon’s face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Got nothin’.” Braydon shrugs.

“This is half of the problem!” Misha crosses to them. He starts to reach for Braydon before he seems to realize that Tony’s still holding him. “We love you, but you’re so fucking oblivious.”

“I’m not!” Braydon objects, though it’s pretty weak as they go.

“I tried to tell you Tony was looking at you and you didn’t believe me.”

“He did, I remember.” Tony nods, blushes a bit at the memory. “Right before he cornered me in the parking lot.”

“He did _what_?” Braydon pulls back and looks up at Misha.

“Oh, stop,” Misha waves it off. “That was ages ago and we’re way past all of that.” He grins. “The important bit is we both love you.”

Tony can see Braydon swallow as he looks between the two of them. It shouldn’t be sexy, but it is, of course.

“I love you guys too, I’m just.” He looks down at his hands, wrings his fingers a bit. “It isn’t that hard to believe that you’d like one another better than you like me and my old ass.”

“Fuck you, that’s a nice ass and I love it as much as I love you,” Tony blurts before he can catch himself. He slaps his hands over his mouth while Braydon gapes and Misha laughs.

“Well, okay,” Braydon says slowly after a moment.

Tony pulls his hands away, feels brave as he says, “Come upstairs so me and Misha can show you how much we love it.”

Tony and Misha don’t plan it, but they both hold out a hand simultaneously. Braydon looks between the two and then reaches for them. They take him up the stairs and into the bedroom.

They take their time pulling off his clothes and then their own before guiding him onto the bed.

“Yeah, like that, on your back,” Tony mutters before he leans in and kisses Braydon. He moans when Braydon’s fingers thread into his hair…

And then Misha is there, pushing his way in, kissing Braydon with a bit more tongue. Tony would be annoyed if he didn’t enjoy it quite so much.

That is until, “Outta the way,” Tony gently headbutts Misha, gets his mouth back on Braydon’s.

They battle back and forth like that until it dissolves into a sort of three way kiss. Tony didn’t know that was a thing until right this minute, but he isn’t complaining.

Tony glances up, catches Misha’s eyes in a wordless question. He seems to get it and gives a little nod before they break off and each take a side of Braydon’s neck. He lets his eyes flutter closed while he sucks and bites at Braydon’s sexy fucking neck.

He trails his tongue along Braydon’s collarbone, eyes drifting back open when Braydon’s fingers thread into his hair. He shifts his attention to Misha, sees that he’s in about the same place, doing the same thing and getting the same hand in his hair.

Well, not the _same_ hand.

Tony. No, Concentrate.

He maps a path down Braydon’s chest, spends a couple extra seconds on his nipple before continuing on his way. Slow, open mouthed kisses to each ab on the way down, lips dancing along his pelvic bone and down to where he’s hard, waiting for one of them to get their happy ass in gear.

Well, he doesn’t mind being the first one there. Except he isn’t. They’ve arrived at the same time, but that’s okay. They can each take half, right?

Tony wraps his hand around the base of Braydon’s dick. A little sigh escapes him when Misha’s fingers slip between his and add to the grip.

Yes, perfect.

They lean in together and take turns with Braydon’s dick. Licking and sucking and slipping the occasional bit of tongue to one another, until Braydon is straining under them from the effort of not coming right this moment.

It is so fucking sexy when he’s wound this tight, every muscle taught with it...but Tony wants him to come like, immediately. He pulls back, Misha does too even though he’s obviously confused.

“Hey Braydon,” he says softly while he and Misha continue working him over.

Braydon looks down his body at them. There’s a little prick of sweat forming on his brow and his eyes are a little wild.

_So sexy._

“Have you ever wanted to come on both of our faces at once?” Tony asks.

Braydon groans and comes, watching as Tony makes sure some gets on both of them. As promised.

“That’s what I thought,” Tony says with a smirk while Misha reaches for tissues on the end table. Braydon lays back and catches his breath while they clean up.

Tony settles on one of Braydon’s shoulders while Misha lands on the other.

They’re quiet for a minute before Braydon asks, “Do you guys want...anything?”

“No, you ridiculous man,” Tony says.

“This was just for you,” Misha adds.

“Oh. Okay.” Braydon pauses. “Do you guys wanna shower?”

“Fuck yes,” Misha says, already halfway to the bathroom. Tony and Braydon smile after him.

“You know,” Tony starts, “If I was going to run away with anyone, which I’m not, it would have probably been you.”

Braydon catches his mouth in a kiss, biting gently on Tony’s lower lip as he pulls away.

Tony sighs, melting into Braydon’s touch. “Yeah I’m not ever going to get tired of that.”

“Are you coming or not!” Misha shouts from the bathroom.

They laugh, rushing out of bed to join Misha under the warm spray.

**Everything Really is Well**

“This came in the mail for you today,” Misha says.

Braydon’s heart stops when he sees the manilla envelope he’s holding out. He doesn’t need to see the return address, if there even is one. He knows it came from Chicago.

“Um. I’m going to go read this in the library,” he says.

“Okay, let us know if you need us,” Tony offers.

Braydon can see the little hint of worry in each of their eyes. “I will, thanks,” he says before closing the door behind him.

He sinks into his favorite chair, flips the manilla envelope over in his hands a couple of times. He both does and doesn’t want to open it.

Schrodinger’s envelope.

“You’re being an idiot,” he mutters to himself before he tears it open. A single piece of paper slips out, familiar handwriting scribbled across it.

_Braydon,_

_I was mad at first. I’m not going to lie. I didn’t have any right to be, but I was mad that you’ve moved on with not one, but two people. That you looked happy and healthy while I was still just...existing in Chicago. _

_My first instinct was to lash out at you. To say something shitty and cutting like, “Two guys doesn’t make them add up to your age.” _

_But that was just me being unfair. So I thought about it some. And I realized that, while we were always happy, I never felt like I was enough for you. I felt like I should be more, felt that you deserved more…_

_And it turns out that you did need more. It isn’t my fault or your fault, but you needed...I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore. _

_They make you happy, I can tell. And they’re happy with you. _

_And I’m happy for all three of you._

_So I need to say goodbye to you. For real this time. Forever. I need to let you go be happy. And I hope you are, Braydon. I hope you stay so blindingly happy. _

_Make sure they take care of you like you deserve, but also maybe don’t let them beat me up quite so much next game. _

_All the best,_

_Slater_

Braydon blinks at the letter. He expected more but somehow it’s totally Slater. Braydon slips it back into the envelope and slips it between two books up on the highest shelf. Tucked away.

He takes a deep breath and heads back out to where Misha and Tony are arguing over what stupid movie to watch on Netflix.

Braydon smiles.

They’re perfect. And he is blindingly, perfectly happy.

**224**

“We should get him something,” Misha says, head pillowed on Braydon’s chest. Tony has an official appearance tonight, leaving Misha and Braydon alone for the first time in a while.

“Hm?” Braydon marks his place in his book and sets it down.

“For Tony. To make it like, official-official.”

“I didn’t get you a gift.”

Misha lights up with an idea. “But you did give me a key.”

“I did.”

“So we can give him one too! On a little keychain. Something cute.”

Braydon pushes his fingers through Misha’s hair. “Pick it out. I’ll get the key made the next time I’m out.”

Misha shimmies up to kiss him. And kiss him again.

Which is exactly how Tony finds them when he gets back from the arena. “You save any of those for me?”

“So many of them,” Misha says with a smile.

Misha spends a stupid amount of time wandering around the mall looking for keychains. It would be easy to get something hockey related or like, a tasteful lightning bolt. He could get something designer, Gucci to match Tony’s shoes maybe?

But none of those feel quite right.

He wants something...grossly romantic. Like so sugary sweet people groan when they tell them what it means. He stops at a kiosk that specializes in personalizing leather goods.

“Can I help you?” the young girl manning the register asks.

“Um.” He picks up a wallet with the name _James_ stamped into the side. It’s pretty nice leather. “Do you do keychains?”

She nods. “Yeah, they’re over here.”

He follows her around the kiosk to where the keychains are.

“We’ve got two different sizes and three shapes. It mostly depends on what you want to put on them.”

Misha looks at his options but still has no idea what he wants it to say. He could do initials but like, in what order? Jersey numbers? Jersey numbers with little plus signs between them? Little _hearts_ between them? That would definitely get them fined in the locker room.

Oh.

He pulls out his phone to make sure he did the math right. “I’ll take three of the smallest ones and can I get 224 printed on them, please?”

“The number?’

“Yeah.”

“Sure. No problem.”

Tony can’t be the only one with something this perfect.

He takes the keychains home in a nice little box and finds Tony stretched out on the couch, deep into a nap, and Braydon in the kitchen putting together sandwiches.

“Hey,” Misha says, greeting him with a kiss.

“Did you pick something?”

“I did.” He shakes the little box. “I got one for each of us.”

“Oh, lemme see.” Braydon reaches for the box but Misha pulls it back.

“Nuh-uh. I wanna see both of your faces at once.”

Braydon huffs, turns back to the sandwiches. “Okay, fine. Help me finish up then.”

They finish and plate the food up and bring it out to the living room. Misha sets the plates on the coffee table while Braydon takes a seat on the edge of a cushion.

“Hey,” he says quietly, running a hand into Tony’s hair. “Wake up sleepy head.”

Tony stirs, gives a full-bodied stretch that is honestly just adorable, and smiles up at them through squinty little sleepy eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Braydon echos, smiling softly at him. Misha almost wants to keep watching, but also…

“I got something for you!” He holds the box out. “Well, us.”

“You did?” Tony pushes himself up, reaches out.

“One for you.” He tosses one to Braydon and Tony in turn. “And one for you.”

“224?” Braydon asks, a confused look painting his face up nicely.

“Oh! The sum of our numbers, cool!”

Misha gapes at Tony. “How did you…”

Tony shrugs. “But what’s it for?”

“Oh, I can help there.” Braydon is visibly shaking off the math thing while he digs into his pocket. He pulls out a key. “Ta da!” He waves a little jazz hand next to it.

“I...get a key?” Tony asks, his voice breaking in the middle.

“I mean, you don’t have to take it if you don’t wan--”

“I want it!” He snatches it and slips it onto the ring. “There. Perfect.”

Perfect indeed, Misha thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> You know you love us. Don't front.


End file.
